One Wing
by Epitome of Bold
Summary: We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can fly by embracing one another. Sam/Dean- wincest, oneshot.


Note- Preseries...Dean's eh, twenty maybe, and Sam's sixteen. And Dean might be a little OOC.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

_x_

_We are each of us angels with only one wing,  
and we can fly by embracing one another.  
-Luciano de Crescenzo_

Dean had once read those words whilst researching angel lore years before. He had jerked his head to one side, staring at the screen thoughtfully for a moment, made a soft clicking noise in the back of his mouth, and nodded his approval before hitting the back button and finding the next hit for his search.

Although he looked at the sentence for simply a few seconds, he put a great deal of thought into it for someone like him. Usually the bits of random information or quotes Sammy spit out daily went in one ear and out the other, but this phrase stayed with him...haunting him.

John was rarely around anymore; Sam was his usual quiet, studious self, putting all his effort into his sophomore year at high school in surburbia, where the brothers fought to fit in where they didn't belong.

He had barely started his in this area of expertise; he went on his first solo hunt a week after graduation. Yet, he was already sick of the expenses. He told himself to be strong, if not for himself then for Sammy. He blocked out the death, the demons, the terror that came to life in his world. Dean tried to pretend the nightmares didn't happen and that he didn't lose a piece of himself after every hunt.

He simply told Sammy that when he was off hunting with him in two years that he couldn't let it get to him...even though he knew better. Dean knew you couldn't keep it from getting to you.

Dean knew he didn't have to be so secluded about his pain. But he figured, he'd wait until Sammy was out there on the job with him before he dumped his own demons on Sam. He really wished he never had this life because he would never have this weight that Sammy insisted Dean let him help carry.

Dean wondered how high you could fly on broken wings, but then he remembers he already only has one wing. He figured if you need another wing, then you should pick someone with a strong, steady, stable wing. He decided that Sammy should have a chance to find someone who can help him fly instead of weigh him down. Dean would stay lonely on the ground if only it meant that Sammy could fly.

-

"You can fly too, De," Sam insisted one night, lying in his bed in the room he shared with Dean. "I don't need to fly too high; I just need someone else to keep me company on the ground."

Dean rolled off his back to face him and muttered softly, "Well, you too good for the ground, and you're too good for someone with a flawed wing."

"Dean...with this job, my wing's gonna be worse than yours in no time...if not already," Sam looked in every direction besides the other bed and he thought of his nightmares.

"Don't say that," he answered harshly and padding softly over to Sam's bed. "Sammy, anyone would think your wing was the best they'd ever seen...I sure do."

Sam sat up and leaned his weight against the wall, staring at his hands in his lap. "Thanks...," a slow blush crept up his cheeks, and Dean sat closer to his brother, brushing his hands through Sam's shaggy hair. "But to me, your wing might as well be able to fly all the way to heaven. It's the only wing I want to be with...I just don't match your wing well though."

Dean smiled sadly in the dim light of the moon and stars shining through the open window. "Well, how about we just agree that wherever we can fly together will be more than enough for us."

Sam nodded his agreement and moved over to peck Dean quickly and shyly on the lips. Snuggling into his brother's embrace, Sam opened his well-educated mouth. "I think it mostly means that in life, you need someone else to share the burden. It doesn't matter how damaged either one is, just as long as you have someone to fall on. It's the only way to make it through, to have someone who makes you feel like you fly...and they will catch you if it turns out you can't."

"Bitch," Dean said with slight amusement but still pulling his Sammy closer and kissing the top of his head.

"Jerk."

After that, the words didn't haunt Dean as much as they brought him comfort. He knew that both of their wings were ruined beyond repair, but they didn't need to fly to be happy...they just needed each other.


End file.
